


Game Of Survival (On Hiatus)

by The_Sad_Hatter



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Bucky is smitten, Bucky pines, Dark humor mostly, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Mentions of past child abuse, Morally Grey Reader, Multi, Natasha is a wily fox, Reader is a BAMF, Slow Burn, Steve is not innocent, Tony and Bucky are Bros, and COMEDY, graphic gore, graphic smut, there's fluff as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sad_Hatter/pseuds/The_Sad_Hatter
Summary: The Executioner - Killer of Killers, the monster that hunts monsters, the bad-guys bogeyman.It's a title you earned and one that you cherish. Your goals are justified, your methods are not. But when a simple murder turns into a suicide and you are left clutching a flash drive with a terrible secret on it, you find yourself caught up in a mystery that you can't solve alone. You turn to the professionals, the experts, the heroes. The Avengers.With the lives of everyone in the world suddenly at stake, Earth's Mightiest Heroes have no choice but accept your help and Bucky Barnes quickly finds himself drawn in by you. He never much believed in love, let alone love at first sight so it figures he'd be proven wrong in such a spectacular way.**On hiatus**





	1. Prologue

When you were a young girl, you were taught that love was a weakness, a failing of the human race, an anomaly in your biology designed to keep you weak and the only way to be strong was to train yourself to never succumb to it. It was a lesson you learned well, because you had no other choice. You were a creature incapable of love, incapable of loyalty. And on your eighteenth birthday, with a stolen gun from the top drawer of your father desk, you proved just how much you had learned. The weight of the gun in your hand was a small price to pay for the weight lifted from your soul when you pulled the trigger.

 

“Goodbye papa.”

 

You never forgot the look in his eyes as you fired the gun, nor the way it felt when his blood splattered against the pristine walls. It was freedom, and it was divine.

 

You never stopped pulling the trigger after that day. Your goal was righteous, your methods were not.

 

For a scared child who cowed at the crack of a belt, you pulled the trigger.

 

For a young girl ripped away from her home and stowed away in the dark, you pulled the trigger.

 

For the young boy enticed away from his family and his veins poisoned and soul stained, you pulled the trigger.

 

For the parents who would never hold their child again, you pulled the trigger.

 

Your price was non-negotiable, a promise. To be _better_. Better than the one who had hurt them, better than you.

 

But you weren’t a hero, no matter the good you had done for the world. Nobody ever called you a hero. They wouldn’t even call you a vigilante.

 

They called you what you were.

 

Serial killer.

 

Drug lords, crime lords, kidnappers, sex traffickers, abusers, rapists, murderers…. They were your victims.

 

Your methods were brutal, unmerciful, terrifying in their violence, downright sickening in the satisfaction you derived from the heinous acts.

 

Nobody felt a shred of pity for those who died by your hand. Nobody ever outright condemned you for what you did, but you were just too far over the line for anybody to defend you out loud. But behind closed doors, in hushed voices, they would say it. Whenever the news showed another monster in the world, the whispers were there.

 

“I hope The Executioner gets them.”

 

Natasha Romanov had met you only once, and not a word had been spoken between you. She had pushed open the door, gun at the ready. Her mark, the man Fury had sent her to take in, dead or alive was lying on his bed. If it weren’t for the gash along his chest, from Adams apple to groin, he might have been sleeping. Moonlight streamed through the open window, glinting off of the silver blade you carefully wiped on the edge of the bedsheet. You turned your head to look at the Russian Spy, your red lips curled into a feral smirk as you raised a blood stained hand to your face, holding a finger to your lips. ‘Shhh’ you gestured, blood dripping from your fingers.

 

Natasha nodded once, a short but firm tilt of her head. She knew who you were because she knew who he was. A despicable man who called himself a doctor, she had seen the pictures of his ‘patients’. Or what was left of them. You turned away from her and walked out onto the balcony, disappearing from view.

 

Had that interaction happened a few years earlier or later, Natasha might have reacted differently. But it didn’t, and she let you walk away. Clint understood why she’d done it.

 

Clint had met you as well. But he had spoken to you.

 

You had a gun pressed to the temple of the woman Shield wanted to speak to regarding a string of unethical and dangerous experiments. Biological warfare, her victim was a small town in France. Hundreds dead, thousands more in danger.

 

“Put the gun down.” He ordered.

 

“Give me a reason.” You demanded coolly.

 

He thought it over before he answered because your tone wasn’t mocking or challenging. It was genuine. If he gave you a reason, you would stand down.

 

“She’s the only one we can get to in time to stop the next attack.” He said.

 

You raised the gun and pointed it at the ceiling immediately.

 

“Tell them what they want to know. They will put you in a cell, you’ll be safe from me.” You told her.

 

You walked away, right past him as if you didn’t think he would stop you.

 

“Wait…” He said.

 

“No.” You replied firmly as you continued walking.

 

“You can be better than this, you just proved that. Don’t you want to be a part of something bigger than this? To actually make a difference, a real one. What you’re doing, you don’t have to do alone.” He offered.

 

“Not interested.” You said dismissively.

 

“I can’t let you leave.” He warned you.

 

“Then stop me.” You told him without turning around as you walked out of the door.

 

He wanted to, but Fury told him to stand down. Clint had always wondered how you found your victims. Now he knew.

 

Sometimes when Nick Fury wanted someone dead, executed, a file always found its way to you. You were smart enough to know Fury was manipulating you, he was smart enough to know you didn’t care.

 

Contrary to what the rumours said about you, you weren’t a vengeful ghost, you weren’t a righteous demon or a dark avenging angel. You were human, an as such, you made mistakes. You were flesh and blood, and when you were cut, you bled, when you were shot, it fucking hurt.

 

The steady drip of your blood splattering on the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room. It wasn’t a heavy enough flow for you to bother staunching it, you wouldn’t die from blood loss so pressing something against the wound would just be unnecessary effort and pain.

 

Better to let the blood flow.  Words you lived by.

 

But even lonely serial killer sometimes needed somebody to dig out the bullets and stitch them back together. Sometimes even someone who was used to working alone knew when they were in too deep.

 

You didn’t bother turning around when the door whooshed open.

 

“You.”

 

“Hello Clint, nice to see you again.” You said.

 

“Uh, who the hell is this and why is she bleeding all over my clean floors? You, creepy lady, stop bleeding on my floor.” Tony Stark instructed you.

 

You turned around, smirking at various The Avengers who had all gathered to hunt down the intruder. You held up the flash drive you’d almost died obtaining and tossed it at them. Clint was the one who caught it in his fist.

 

“Would somebody mind digging this bullet out, I’d do it myself but I’m about four and a half minutes away from dying so I don’t really have the time.” You said sarkily.

 

“I’m waiting for a reason we aren’t cutting that time short, Clint?” Tony sassed back.

 

“What’s on the flashdrive?” Clint asked you.

 

“Seven and a half billion reasons not to let me die. Saving the world is your thing right? Or have I broken into the wrong place?” You asked them.

 

You were betting you hadn’t. You were betting your life on it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~The Next Day~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Bucky was a young man, he’d been what nowadays was referred to as a player. When the war came and he shipped out he was torn between wishing he had someone to go home to when it was over, and thankful that there was nobody he might leave behind. Then came the fall and he didn’t think about things like love anymore. When the hellicarriers went down and Bucky started to regain control of his own mind, there was no space in his fractured mind for something like love. When he was in Wakanda, relearning how to be human again, he realized that someone like him wasn’t ever going to be able to find love. Then Tony Stark reached out and brought the lost Avengers home and Stark’s forgiveness went a long way to Bucky being able to start to forgive himself, but still, there was something in him that just knew love was not in his future.

 

 

Or so he thought.

 

 

It happened in a split second, on an unremarkable day. He had just returned from a mission with Steve and Sam. He was weary, bruised and tired. All that melted away, forgotten when he heard her before he saw her. A loud, unrestrained laugh, brimming and overflowing with joy. Bucky’s feet led him towards the magical sound automatically, like a siren call. He turned the corner and it was like he’d only been seeing the world in muted colours his whole life without even realising it. She had her back to him and as she turned around, hair flying out behind her, he saw the wide smile across her face, the twinkle in her eyes and everything snapped into place with an earth shattering finality.

 

She was the one.

 

“Buckinator, come meet this delightful creature.” Tony called, waving him over.

 

Bucky didn’t hesitate, it wasn’t confidence, it was desperation to speak to her.

 

“Hi.” He breathed out, in awe of the shining beauty who was now smiling right at him. For him.

 

“Hello.” She said and her voice was just as melodic as her laugh.

 

That was the day he fell in love.

 

“This is The Executioner, one of the most prolific Serial Killers in the world.” Tony announced. 

 

Her lips curled up at the edges and like a magic trick, she went from sunshine to sinful. 

 

Unfortunately for him, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

All Bucky could think was that you were divine, you were dangerous and the cold disinterest in your eyes as you sat and watched Tony explain your crimes to him, Steve and Sam left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“What’s the difference between her and say… that Daredevil guy? Or us for that matter. Why does she get the mantle of serial killer when you say she’s never taken an innocent life?” Steve asked, eager to believe the best in you.

 

“It’s not what she does Cap, it’s the way that she does it. She doesn’t just kill, she’s a butcher.” Tony sighed heavily, pushing a file across the table to them.

 

Steve was the one who reached for it first, flipping it open.

 

Bucky was the first to realise what he was looking at, his own twisted mind putting the pieces together. Sam and Steve took a little longer. They were soldiers, they had seen their fair share of death but this wasn’t the same, this was just darker. Their minds rebelled against what they were seeing, trying to protect them from the horrors on the photographs.

 

Eventually though, they fought through it.

 

“Jesus Christ.” Sam said, looking ill.

 

Steve remained impassive, stone faced and that was more telling than anything to Bucky. Steve was horrified.

 

“You did this?” Steve asked you, looking at you coldly.

 

“Would help if I knew what you were looking at.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

 

Steve slid the file along the table, more pictures spilling out and exposing more horrific crimes to them.

 

“Oh, yes. That was me.” You smirked.

 

“Why?” Sam asked, well more demanded.

 

“This one, he was a particularly nasty piece of work. He liked taking innocence, true innocence that was untouched by the world and obliterating it in the cruellest ways his twisted mind could think of. So I repaid the favour, twisted his body up to match his mind until his heart gave out.” You explained, and for the casualness of your tone you could have been explaining the weather.

 

“He was alive when you did that?” Steve asked, shock clouding his features.

 

“Well what would have been the point in doing it after he was dead?” You asked, genuine befuddlement in your voice.

 

“What was the point in doing it when he was alive?” Sam snapped at you.

 

“Before you get too comfy on that high horse, take a look at _his_ victims.” You challenged.

 

That left everyone silent. That was what you did, that was your calling card. However evil you were, however despicable or heinous your acts, nobody could easily condemn you. You expected Captain America to try though, and weren’t ashamed to admit your surprise when he didn’t.

 

“So why are you here? I assume you aren’t handing yourself in.” The Captain asked, genuinely curious.

 

“I’m here to save the world.” You announced, throwing your hands out to the sides as you made your proclamation to add a touch of dramatic flair.

 

“She brought us evidence of… something. Something big.” Clint said, nodding to you.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~Three Days Ago~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Watashi wa too-kai ni itte imasu, watashi wa watashi no shigoto no sewa o shite iru ma, mihari tsudzukemasu.”

 

“Hai, bosu.”

 

The thing that always amused you was that nobody ever looked up. When Sora Kawashima got onto the elevator, not him or his retinue of bodyguards glanced up and saw you balancing above them. As soon as the doors closed, you let go, falling lithely onto the ground and landing in a push up motion.

 

“Ki o tsukete!” Someone yelled, pushing Sora behind him.

 

Balancing all your weight on your arms you kicked your legs out in opposite directions, unbalancing two guards and sending them toppling to the ground. As they fell, you rose, unholstering two long blades as you did.

 

“Anatahadare?” One of them snarled at you.

 

“Watashi wa shidesu.” You said coldly.

 

As you spoke, declaring that you were death with your words, your actions backed you up. The blades spun through the air, leaving a glittering trail of blood droplets that painted the wall of the elevator. They fought back, of course they did, but they were money muscle. There to look intimidating, break knew caps and fire guns.

 

You were a well honed killer, trained to fight from the day you could walk. There were plenty of people in the world who could take you on and win, none of them were in that elevator though. They died in a glorious display of blood and carnage until there was a thick puddle of the viscous liquid covering the floor and you stood in the centre of a pile of partially dismembered bodies while your target covered by the doors, desperately prising them open. He flinched violently when you chuckled and pressed the door release button and he fell through them, not looking back as he sprinted away.

 

People usually didn’t want to die. They fought back, that wasn’t unusual, it was more common for them to run though. So when Sora Kawashima ran, you weren’t at all surprised. Let him run, he wouldn’t get far. All his bodyguards were already dead, quickly and easily disposed of, though they had gotten in a number of minor hits. You were dribbling a thin line of blood from your skull and it was annoying, but not debilitating.

 

What _did_ surprise you was that he didn’t run for the stairs, for an exit or even somewhere to hide. He ran for his own office. You calmly followed, your footsteps silent in contrast to his thundering ones. You curiously cocked your head when you arrived at the office and saw his rifling through his desk, inputing a code on a safe and taking out something small.

 

“You will not succeed.” He told you, switching over to flawless English.

 

“You know who I am?”

 

“You are the one they call The Executioner.”

 

“Then you know, I never fail.” You said.

 

He held up the thing he’d been so desperate to get, a slim USB stick and while your face remained impassive, internally you were franticly trying to figure out why it was so important.

 

“The six will be five but they will continue.” He declared and dived towards the glass doors leading to the balcony.

 

You were faster, but he was closer and he made it onto the ledge before you could stop him. With a victorious grin he opened his fist and dropped the flashdrive and pushed himself back from the ledge.

 

It was a choice, one he was forcing you to make. Did you grab him, or the flashdrive?

 

He was a monster, a big name in human trafficking, selling people and their parts on the black market. You _had_ planned to cut him open while he was alive and conscious, pump him full of adrenaline so he was forced to watch as you carefully removed as many organs as you could before his body gave out. But he didn’t want you to get that flashdrive, which meant you really needed to see what was on it.

 

And if it was nothing, then he would still be dead.

 

You leapt over the balcony, sailing into the air and grabbed the ledge with one hand, snatching the drive with the other. You saw his eyes as he fell, panic and terror. But his gaze was firmly on the drive in your hands and you knew it wasn’t the imminent death that put such fear into him, it was that he had died for nothing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~Today~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What kind of evidence?” Sam asked.

 

“A usb. And it’s… well it’s complicated.” Tony sighed.

 

“It’s a well detailed manifesto, an intricate plan. One that states the end of the world is nigh.” You informed them.

 

“Hang on now, it doesn’t _quite_ say that.” Clint rebutted.

 

“It’s a recipe, for a virus. Or, part of it anyway. As well as part of a plan to release said virus.” You argued.

 

“It doesn’t mean it’s real.” Clint said.

 

“What do you think?” You asked, turning in your chair to look at The Black Widow.

 

She had been quiet, watching everything with a calculating gaze.

 

“Bruce is studying it now, seeing if there’s even potential of a threat. But you carried this across the world, being chased all the way. I think we need to consider that it may be a credible threat.” She said.

 

“Hence why this darling little psychopath is wandering around freely and not in a cell.” Tony said.

 

“If you agree that there’s a threat then I’ll tell you everything I know. Until then I am withholding the information and using it to make sure nobody does anything stupid.” You said smugly.

 

“Stupid like breaking into the base of The Worlds Mightiest Hero’s while they are on the FBI’s most wanted list.” Clint snorted.

 

“I’m hardly the most wanted, they barely put any effort into catching me.” You said, shaking your head.

 

“They have an entire joint agency taskforce dedicated to catching you. FBI, CIA, Interpol, Scotland Yard, The UN!”

 

“And they’ve never even come close, they aren’t trying that hard.” You scoffed.

 

“So, we’re just supposed to hold hands and sing kumbaya with The Executioner while Banner tries to figure out if we need her or not?” Sam checked.

 

“Pretty much.” Tony shrugged.

 

“Why is everyone alright with this? Cap?” Sam sighed.

 

Steve looked you over, studying you.

 

“Until we know more, she stays.” He decided.

 

“Great, we can have a slumber party. I’ll bring the popcorn.” Sam huffed.

 

“Sweet, not salty. You’re salty enough Icarus.” You told him.

 

“What’s your name, or shall we just call you The Executioner?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

 

“Call me whatever you like.” You shrugged.

 

“Will you at least tell us your name?” Steve asked politely.

 

You smirked and gestured to Clint and Natasha.

 

“I’m sure someone can tell you if you really want to know, but I don’t really use it anymore. First rule of being an internationally wanted criminal, don’t use your real name.” You told him, standing up.

 

“Where are you going?” Sam demanded.

 

“Well you made me hungry when you started talking about popcorn so I’m going to go raid your kitchen, I probably won’t poison everything while I’m there. “ You promised sweetly as you left the room.

 

“Are we really all ok with this?” Sam asked seriously.

 

“No, but the fact that she came here proves she’s worried. She’s not stupid, she wouldn’t walk into the loins den without a good reason.” Clint sighed.

 

“I think we’re all brushing over the obvious here. Her methods, while brutal and violent don’t change the fact that everyone she’s killed was a bad guy. She does what we do, just with a little more blood.” Natasha said.

 

“It’s the methods that scare me. You saw the way she looked at those pictures, no remorse at all. Her eyes practically lit up. She enjoys it.” Sam argued.

 

“She’s not the only person here with red in their ledger and I’m not just talking about myself. We’re all soldiers, weapons manufacturers, assassins, spies… So she’s a serial killer? It’s not that big of a deal.” Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders.

 

“Not that big of a deal!” Sam repeated in disbelief.

 

“I took her up on that offer to look at that guys victims you know.” Tony interjected.

 

“And, what do you think?” Steve asked him.

 

There was something haunted in Tony’s expression when he answered.

 

“I could never do what she did, but I’m not sorry she did it.” He said.

 

That seemed to throw Sam and Steve for a loop.

 

“Listen, I’m not saying we give her a medal. I’m saying that somewhere in there is a good person who’s doing bad things.” Tony explained.

 

“If you do bad things for a good reason, you’re still doing bad things.” Sam sighed.

 

“I did bad things for bad reasons once, I changed. She’s already halfway there.” Natasha said.

 

“And she did come here, risking a lot for nothing more than a possible threat I suppose.” Sam said to himself more than anyone else.”

 

“Wheres Bucky?” Steve asked, realising his oldest friend wasn’t in the room anymore.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bucky’s mind was racing as he thought about everything you had said, they way you had said it and your possible motivations. More than that, he was trying to figure out why he was so drawn towards you. He hadn’t made the conscious choice to follow you to the kitchen, his feet had seemed to develop a mind of their own and carried him through the compound. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to talk to you though, alone.

 

“So you’re some kind of avenging angel?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe as you sliced an apple in half and bit into it.

 

“No sweetheart, I’m a killer. My victim of choice just happens to be the bad guys. Could have just have easily been something else but this is where the cards landed for me.” You answered, spearing the other half of the apple onto the knife and offering it to him.

 

“And that’s the first time you’ve lied so far.” Bucky said calmly, ignoring your offer.  

 

“Oh, you’re good.” You told him, pulling out the knife and flipping it.

 

“Yes, I am. So why not just tell me the truth?” He pushed.

 

“Alright, I _like_ killing. Nothing feels as good as making someone bleed, except knowing that the person whimpering for mercy is someone who other people are afraid of. I like being the monster that the monsters are afraid of. Was that a lie?” You told him, twirling the knife absentmindedly in your hand.

 

“No.” He sighed.

 

“You were really hoping for a pretty answer about justice and punishing the guilty weren’t you?” You asked with a smirk.

 

“Why would I want that?” He asked flatly.

 

“Because redeeming me could have been the last stepping stone on your own path to forgiving yourself.” You said simply.

 

“Guess we’ll never know if that was true.” Bucky said, dismissively.

 

“Forgiveness is overrated, and for someone like you unobtainable. Get used to the weight of that guilt soldier, you’re going to be carrying it for a long time.” You informed him heavily.

 

“You don’t know me.” He insisted, more than a little annoyed.

 

“I know you have a soul. And that’s why you’ll never be free of the things you’ve done. But if this makes you feel better, I would never kill you.” You said gently, throwing the knife into the sink.

 

“Why would that make me feel better, you couldn’t even if you tried.” He said derisively as you walked past him, wandering back into the corridor.  

 

“But I would never try. Let that sink in for a second.” You smirked over your shoulder and then you were gone.

 

The Executioner, the killer of killers wouldn’t kill him. He did let it sink in. You were the self-appointed judge, jury and executioner of the guilty and you had judged him innocent. It shouldn’t have made him feel better, but it did. It was like having the devil tell you that you weren’t a sinner, it was a cold, empty kind of comfort but a comfort all the same.

 

His little talk with you hadn’t really cleared anything up for him, he was still confused. You were beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. You were cold and somehow made him feel strangely warm.

 

It dawned on him that you weren’t actually cold at all. You had seen through him, know why he was asking you why you did the things you did and told him that you would never kill him, tried to offer him comfort. In your own twisted way, you had offered kindness.

 

Why the hell did that realization have him smiling?


	3. Chapter 3

You had found an empty meeting room with a decent enough window view and were hunkered down to wait for Doctor Banner to finish reviewing the information you’d given when you became aware that you weren’t alone in the room anymore.

 

“Widow. It’s been a long time.” You said without looking up.

 

Few people would approach you, fewer still could do it silently. Only one had such light footsteps, ergo, Natasha Romanoff was stood behind you.

 

“Executioner. Eight years, give or take.” She replied.

 

“It’s good to see you again.” You told her truthfully, turning to face her.

 

“Why is that?” She asked, lips quirking into a faux friendly grin.

 

“Our lines of work don’t leave much time for socializing or checking up on old friends.” You said.

 

“Friends?” She asked with a hint of surprise.

 

You ducked your head, hair falling forward to cover your face.

 

“You let me go.” You said softly.

 

“And that makes us friends?” She asked but there was no bite to it, just a genuine curiosity.

 

“Everyone I know is either trying to arrest me or dying at my hand, someone who doesn’t fit into either of those categories is the closest thing I have to a friend.” You admitted.

 

You knew Natasha would be taking your words with a pinch of salt, unsure if it was an honest confession or an attempt at emotional manipulation. But the truth was, you did think of her that way.

 

“Sounds lonely.” She remarked.

 

“It is.” You laughed softly.

 

“Well then this should be a treat for you, Stark ordered Chinese food. You hungry?” She asked, extending the invitation with a jerk of her head towards the door.

 

“The Avengers want to break bread with a killer?” You said, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

 

“They let me sit at the table.” She shrugged.

 

“You and I are not the same.” You told her.

 

“No, we aren’t. I never had a righteous cause, I was an assassin.” She rebutted.

 

You laughed under your breath and shook your head.

 

“I haven’t been here long and it’s already begun. The redemption of The Executioner. Should I expect the Captain to come down and give me a rousing speech about morality and the good within me? Is Stark already working on my super suit?” You chuckled.

 

“I told him to make it black, so we’d match.” She joked.

 

“I’m not here so you can save me Widow, I’m here to save the world. Don’t waste your time on me, it’s a lost cause.” You sighed.

 

“Well I like having hobbies.” She said nonchalantly.

 

“So do I. I like killing. I’m good at it and it makes me happy and I sleep just fine at night knowing what I’ve done. I don’t need saved, I don’t need redeemed, I don’t want to change. When our business is concluded I will go back to the slaughter and mayhem.” You stated emphatically.

 

She looked you over for a moment and when her eyes settled on yours, you met her gaze unflinchingly.

 

“Alright. So Chinese?” She said, walking away like there hadn’t been a conversation.

 

“I’m not hungry, but thank you.” You said, sitting back down.

 

Shed didn’t say anything, she just left. You naively thought that was the end of it…. Ten minutes later she walked back in, a bag of Chinese food in her arms and an entourage dutifully following behind her.

 

“We didn’t know what you liked so we just grabbed as much as we could away from the rest.” Steve explained, putting a pile of takeout boxes down on front of you.

 

“You want a fork or chopsticks?” Clint asked, holding out both.

 

“I’m not hungry, I did tell _somebody_ that.” You told them, waving Clint away.

 

He shrugged and threw the chopsticks at you and your automatic reflexes kicked in, making you catch them.

 

“You were shot, you’re still healing, you need your energy.” Steve scolded, unboxing the massive amounts of takeout.

 

“As someone who has been shot before, multiple times, I can guarantee there’s no healing properties to be found in Kung Pao Chicken.” You snorted.

 

“So you like Kung Pao Chicken, we have that. Here.” Clint said smugly, pushing the container towards you.

 

“Why the warm and fuzzy attitude Oliver Queen? Last time we met, I rejected you, you seem to be taking it well.” You said coldly.

 

“My ego was bruised but I got over it, realised it was you, not me.” He said, holding your gaze unwaveringly until you reached out to pick up the food.

 

He nodded in satisfaction and started stuffing noodles onto his plate before passing the box to Natasha. You sighed and looked around at them.

 

“Can I at least have a fork?” You asked, frowning at the chopsticks.

 

“The Executioner can’t use chopsticks? Really?” Steve smirked, unwrapping his own chopsticks and using them flawlessly.

 

“I can use them but the last time I held a pair I was using them to pluck out someone’s eyeballs.” You deadpanned.

 

Steve faltered for a moment, looking at you like he was trying to figure out if you were joking or not. Natasha watched the interaction with interest, noting the way you looked begrudgingly amused when Steve deliberately picked up a prawn ball with the chopsticks and put it in his mouth.

 

“So, Ex, Kill anybody good lately?” Clint asked casually.

 

“Ex?” You asked, prodding at the chicken with your chopsticks.

 

“The executioner is a mouthful, we settled on Ex. It was the politer of the options that were suggested.” Natasha explained.

 

“Unless you’ve changed you mind about telling us your name?” Steve asked hopefully.

 

“No, you’re already getting too friendly. No need to encourage you.” You sighed, giving in and actually eating the food.

 

“Ex it is then.” Steve said politely, conveniently ignoring your other comments.

 

“So neither of you told him my name?” You asked Natasha and Clint, somewhat surprised.

 

They shared a quick glance and it immediately clicked.

 

“You don’t know my name do you? Wow, Fury really did burn all traces of me.” You said.

 

“Fury?” Steve asked, pausing with a mouthful of food hallway to his mouth.

 

“She was on Fury’s radar, but not Shields. If he knew anything about her, he kept it a secret.” Clint told him.

 

They didn’t know. That revelation actually shocked you, though it shouldn’t have. You scoffed and dropped the takeout container on the table, appetite gone.

 

“Fury knew me alright, knew me a lot better than you do. He saw what you won’t admit, he knew what I was before I did.” You told them in an icy tone.

 

“He is good at seeing what people are capable of.” Natasha agreed.

 

“Yeah, he was.” You said bitterly, standing up and walking out of the room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~Nine Years Ago~~~~~~~~~~

 

You sipped slowly at the coffee, not wanting to rush the experience. Coffee wasn’t a luxury, sitting out in public, watching the people walk past, seeing the way the city lives, that was a luxury.

 

“I’m impressed. Not many people can break into the most secure building in the world and you might be the only one to do it just to leave a job application on my desk.” Nick fury said, sitting down across from you.

 

“I wanted to get your attention.” You said softly.

 

“Well you have it.”

 

“I want to work for Shield, I have training, I have skills. I’m an expert in over 12 different kinds of martial arts, I have excellent marksmanship skills, I can understand multiple languages and am fluent in eight of them, my technological…”

 

“All this was in the application you left on my desk. What wasn’t there, was this.” He interrupted.

 

He pulled an envelope out of his coat and handed it to you. You gingerly took it from him and opened it.

 

“It’s not what you think. I can explain.” You said hurriedly.

 

“I don’t need an explanation. A photo speaks a thousand words.” He said dismissively.

 

You brushed your fingers over the photographs, drinking in the evidence of what you had done. Not that you needed a photo to remember the colour of your fathers blood, or the heat of the flames and the house burned.

 

“That’s a lot of anger for such a young girl. What bothers me isn’t the killing, it’s the fact that they pulled multiple bodies out of the fire, including _yours_. This was premeditated, planned down to the last detail and while your family burned, you slipped away.” Fury said coldly.

 

“Yes, I planned it. But I made the world a better place by doing what I did.” You whispered.

 

“I don’t disagree. But I’ve met people like you before, and that anger can’t be tempered. It will grow until it burns out of control and someone like that won’t make a good agent. You don’t have the capability to trust anyone, to be a team player. Sometimes when something is broken it can be fixed, made stronger. Sometimes it’s just broken and all it is a sharp object.” He said, and the kindness in his voice was so obviously false.

 

“You’re saying I’m broken, sharp.” You deciphered.

 

“I’m saying that you made the world a better place, but that doesn’t make you a good person. You are not now, nor will you ever be, a hero. There’s no place for you in Shield. If you want to put your skills to use, you’ll have to find a way to do it alone.” He suggested.

 

So that’s what you did.

 

~~~~~~~~~~Today~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had occurred to you after that day that Fury might have been manipulating you. He had nudged you into the life of a killer with his carefully chosen words and you never quite figured out if he did it because he saw a potential asset to be exploited or if he really had seen the darkness in your soul. Either way, it didn’t matter. You had taken the path he had steered you onto and you had no desire to turn back.

 

Even if a small part of you wished you could ask him the truth, it was useless. Fury was dead.

 

And you had somehow managed to stumble onto the man who killed him for the second time that day.

 

You could tell it was him from the back, even without the obvious metal arm. His shoulders were tensed, his back muscles rippling as he utterly destroyed the punching bag. Every jab was powerful and fast as he worked the bag with a strength you were slightly envious of.

 

“Did it personally offend you or are you picturing somebody’s face on it?” You called across the gym and he paused to look over his shoulder at you.

 

No.” He grunted, going back to hitting the bag.

 

Boxing was about more than strength thankfully, though you weren’t lacking in that department. Or at least for a human of your size you weren’t. There was something you had in spades though and that was stamina. You pulled your jacket off, leaving you in a pair of dark jeans and a black tank top as you walked across the gym to pull on a pair of boxing gloves you were guessing were Natasha’s. He stopped and watched you with a curious gaze as you lined yourself up in a perfect stance at the bag next to his.

 

“Weren’t you shot?” He asked.

 

“I was.”

 

“Should you be working out?” He said with concern.

 

“Best time to do it, my body knows it has to put up with the pain or I’d end up getting killed just because I had a dislocated shoulder.” You said, squaring yourself and jabbing at the bag.

 

Exhale. Right hook. Inhale. Left Hook. Exhale. Right Hook. Inhale. Left Hook. Exhale. Right hook. Inhale. Left Hook. Exhale. Right Hook. Inhale. Left Hook.

 

The world narrowed down to the air in your lungs and the rhythmic punches, everything else fading away until it was little more than white noise.

 

Bucky watched you with worry at first, concerned about your injuries but it dissipated under the steady thumping of your fists on the bag. He stood next to you and just watched, counting down the minutes and growing more and more impressed all the while. After 20 minutes his awe really kicked in. Your pace hadn’t once faltered or slowed and your face was still blank, showing no signs of discomfort.

 

After 40 minutes the only change was a slight sheen of sweat on your brow and your steady pace remained. The dedication you were showing was astounding and he couldn’t help but wonder how exactly you’d ended up this well trained.

 

After 55 minutes his heart thumped painfully in his chest when he saw the damp patch on your top and smelt the copper in the air.

 

“Stop. STOP!” He commanded, grabbing your fists.

 

You froze, letting him commandeer your arms and yank you away from the bag. He had fully expected you to fight against him but was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t.

 

“You’re bleeding.” He told you softly, dropping his grip on your arms.

 

You looked down and gently peeled your top away from your skin, exposing the red soaked gauze wrap that was covering your bullet wound.

 

“Must have ripped a stitch.” You said blankly.

 

You went to rip the gauze off but once again his hands grabbed at yours. You looked up and for the first time since you’d put the gloves on, met his eyes. He didn’t look worried or horrified, the normal reaction. He looked like he understood.

 

“Who taught you that?” He asked lowly.

 

“To punch?”

 

“To block out the pain of an injury until you’d completed your objective.” He clarified.

 

“Pain is just a distraction to be ignored, never stop and asses or treat an injury unless it is impairing your ability to fight.” You recited in a monotone voice.

 

“Who taught you? Hydra? Shield? The Red Room? Who?” He pushed.

 

“Not every terrible thing that happens to a child happens because of an evil organization.” You told him.

 

“You learned this as a child?” He asked you.

 

“I’m going to go and raid the medical lab so I can take care of this.” You said, ignoring his question.

 

“I can help you.” He offered.

 

“No, you can’t.” You laughed bitterly.

 

“I’ve stitched a bullet wound before.”

 

“But that’s not what you’re offering, not really. Is it?” You asked knowingly.

 

“I know you don’t want help, you don’t want to trust anybody. I didn’t either, but I did. Coming here, letting the team help me was the right choice. It could be for you as well. Nobody here thinks you’re evil for the things you’ve done, they think you still have honour and they want to help you. You could let them.” He said earnestly.

 

“My father.”

 

“Your father trained you.” He said, rolling with the change in subject easily.

 

“He did. My childhood was a lonely, painful thing. But we all have our trauma’s, we all have a tragic backstory. Learning about mine doesn’t mean you understand me on some deeper level and it doesn’t excuse the things I have done. I _know_ that I’m not evil because I know the difference between good and bad, my moral compass is working. I just choose to ignore it.” You said resolutely, slowly walking to your coat and picking it up.

 

“The fact that you only kill the bad guys says a lot more about you than you realise. You keep trying to convince me that you’re a lost cause but I think it’s yourself you’re trying to convince.” He argued.

 

You smirked and folded your coat over your arm.

 

“I am not now, nor will I ever be, a hero.” You said, the weight of your statement clear in your tired voice.

 

You walked away and he didn’t try to stop you but somehow you just knew it wasn’t the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even gonna pretend to have a shred of pride anymore, just gonna shamelessly beg for comments. Kara needs feedback, Kara wants opinions, Kara NEEDS attention!


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you need some help with that?” The infamously angry Avenger asked you timidly.

 

“I’ve got it doc.” You assured, using your teeth to bite through the end of the stitch.

 

“Are you sure?” Bruce pressed, looking a little unsure about your unsanitary methods.

 

“If I let you do it will you stop hovering like a concerned mother hen?” You asked, smirking.

 

“I’ll sew like a concerned mother hen?” He offered.

 

“Have at it.” You said, waving at the wound.

 

He made quick work of fixing your torn stitches, tutting at you all the while.

 

“Try not to mess these ones up.” He scolded when he was finished.

 

“If I promise, would you believe me?” You asked, pulling your coat back on.

 

“Yes.” He shrugged, like it was a simple answer.

 

You paused in semi-amused surprise.

 

“I won’t promise then.” You said.

 

“Come on, the team are waiting.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him.

 

“You went through the info?” You asked, walking behind him.

 

“I did.” He confirmed and that was the extent of the information he gave you until you arrived at the meeting room.

 

“Ex, Bruce. What are we looking at then?” Clint asked.

 

“Well, it’s difficult to say. There were a lot of holes in the data.” Bruce said, fiddling with his glasses.

 

“But were you able to decipher any of it?” Steve pressed.

 

“It’s a virus, that’s certain. Whether it’s lethal or even dangerous, I can’t say yet. I need more data. But, it does look potentially dangerous. There were also partial plans for a dispersal system, it appears to be an synthesized airborne virus. “Bruce explained.

 

“So you need the rest of the data, is there another flashdrive somewhere then?” Natasha said to the room at large.

 

“There are five more.” You announced.

 

“Say Ex, any information you want to share?” Tony asked sarcastically.

 

“The six will be five but they will continue. Those were Sora Kawashima’s dying words, right before he flung himself and that flashdrive off a skyscraper.” You said, nodding to the drive in question.

 

“So the guy swandived off a building rather than deal with you? Does that prove a damn thing?” Sam asked.

 

“Maybe, maybe not. The fact that I walked away from the building without a bullet wound but arrived here half dead, that proves something.” You responded.

 

“That you have a lot of enemies?” Sam rebutted.

 

“Get your head out of the clouds Tweetie Pie, people have hated me for years and not _one_ has ever caught me. I get that drive and in a matter of hours I’m being hunted down by a dozen highly trained assassins? You really think that’s a coincidence?” You asked.

 

“It might be, we don’t know.”

 

“You willing to risk the entire world on that chance?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, challenging him.

 

“No. I’m not.” He sighed.

 

“Me either. I risked my life and my freedom to bring that thing here, the least you could do is consider the possibility that I’m not an idiot.” You quipped.

 

“That was almost heroic of you.” Bucky whispered in your ear.

 

“So there’s _possibly_ five more flashdrives out there, all holding part of the puzzle. Let’s consider this a potential threat. How do we get the other five?” Steve asked.

 

“Any ideas?” Natasha asked, turning to you.

 

You made sure you held Bucky’s gaze while you answered.

 

“Well, since you asked… I do have one of my attackers hanging off a meat hook in a storage unit in the city.”

 

There was an awkward silence after your declaration.

 

“Ex… You’ve been here a whole damn day. This entire time, you’ve had someone ‘hanging out’ who might know more?” Steve clarified.

 

“Relax, I put her on a IV drip so she didn’t you know, die.” You said casually.

 

“And you didn’t mention this sooner, why?” Tony asked, looking concerned about your mental state.

 

“Leverage.” You said like it was obvious.

 

“Address?” Steve sighed.

 

“I’ll text you it when I’m a few miles away.” You told them.

 

“Miles away from where?” Sam asked.

 

“From us. She stuck around to make sure we were going to handle this, now she’s going to cut and run before we arrest her. Her victim is her leverage against being taken in.” Natasha explained nonchalantly.

 

“You’re leaving us to handle this? You aren’t sticking around?” Steve asked, sounding almost disappointed.

 

“Sorry Cap, I’m just not that heroic.” You said, winking at Bucky.

 

“You aren’t leaving.” Bucky stated calmly.

 

“Well actually, I am. And none of you will stop me, because even if the threat isn’t real, IV drips don’t last forever and if you don’t get to that woman soon she will die.” You said equally as calm.

 

“I’m sorry, at what point did any of us act like we were remotely interested in arresting you?” Tony asked, looking around the room for dramatic effect.

 

“You won’t leave, because if you do you won’t know if we actually handled it. The world might be in danger and you can’t just walk away and trust someone else to save it.” Bucky continued, like Tony hadn’t spoken.

 

In fact, the way Bucky was looking at you was like there was nobody else in the room.

 

“If you can’t rely on The Avengers to save the world, who can you rely on?” You asked him with a mocking grin.

 

“Yourself.” He shot back.

 

“I have complete faith in you soldier. You’ve got this, you don’t need me.” You assured him, backing away towards the door.

 

“You’ll be back.” He said, sounding absolutely certain.

 

“Leave the porch light on for me.” You told them, waving sarcastically as you left.

 

“I’m changing all the locks. In fact, lets just move.” Tony joked in the silence you left behind.

 

“She’s coming back.” Bucky repeated, unable to hold back the smirk as he left the room.

 

“SerialWinter… WinterDeath…. OH KillerFrost!” Clint proclaimed.

 

“What?” Sam asked.

 

“Ship names? For those two.” Clint explained, waving towards the door.

 

“Bucky and Ex? No way, even Barnes isn’t that desperate.” Sam scoffed.

 

“Hate to say it but Clint’s right. You could cut that sexual tension with a knife. One of the many knives they have between them.” Tony snorted.

 

 

 

Bucky had forcing himself to walk towards his room, even though every cell in his body had begged him to go after you. He couldn’t make you stay though, it would be impossible. And strange. Because why would you stick around for someone you’d know for less than a day? The better question was, why did he want… no, need you to stay? The second he’d heard your voice he had been drawn to you but finding out who you were should have knocked some sense into him. So why was he still pining after a virtual stranger?

 

He'd been certain you would come back but what if you didn’t? What if he never saw you again? Would that be best? Would he be able to just forget about you?

 

Yes, he decided. You were a beautiful woman and he’d responded to that but it was meaningless.

 

Except it wasn’t meaningless. He knew who and what you were but a killer wasn’t such a bad thing, especially one who only killed bad guys. You weren’t as different to The Avengers as you seemed to think. You all had the same goals, your personal methodology was just a little more violent. So knowing you were The Executioner changed nothing for him.

 

 

He had believed in love at first sight when he was young but life had beaten all romantic notions out of him and he knew there was no such thing now. Lust at first sight, yes, but not love. After one conversation with you though? He could admit that there was at least more than superficial desire there. So if he was wrong and you didn’t come back then it wouldn’t be as simple as just forgetting you.

 

He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts he barely paid attention to the trip into the city after you had sent Friday the coordinates, spending the journey deep in thought.

 

“Do you trust her?” He asked Steve as they approached the abandoned factory.

 

Either you’d lied about the storage facility as a precaution or they were walking into a trap. It might have been stupid but Bucky  wasn’t worried, lying was surprisingly not something you had done a lot.

 

“She’s a serial killer, I’m Captain America. I know I’m supposed to say I don’t trust her but…” Steve sighed.

 

“You do.” Bucky deduced.

 

“I dunno Buck, I know she bloodthirsty but from where I’m standing it just seems like she really doesn’t like bullies. We don’t know why she is the way she is but maybe she doesn’t have to be this way if somebody can actually trust her and show her another way.” Steve said.

 

It was like being smacked in the face and he knew why he had been more drawn to her after finding out more about her. She was like the best of Steve and the worst of him, rolled into one. She had the morality and righteousness of Captain America  and the cold methodology and skill of The Winter Soldier. There might have been some truth to her claim about him seeing redeeming her as another step to his own redemption after all. It made him nervous that she had read him so well, as well as he had read her.

 

“One faint life signal inside, no booby traps. So far looks like our stray serial killer was telling the truth.” Tony said over the comms.

 

Steve nodded and waved Bucky forwards. Hawkeye and The Black Widow were the first to make it inside from the back entrance and were already waiting by the strung up body with expression of morbid amusement.

 

“Well… She _did_ say she had her attacker strung up on a meat hook.” Natasha said with a shrug.

 

The woman was dressed in some kind of dark stealth suit and looked dead but the faint rise and fall of her chest proved that she was remarkably alive. Remarkable because as Bucky walked around the room he saw what Natasha’s comment had meant. There was a metal butchers hook firmly wedged into the skin and muscle of your victims back, and the position and depth of the injury, Bucky would be surprised if the woman would ever walk again.

 

“Guess she didn’t want her attacker waking up and trying to run away.” Bucky remarked coldly.

 

“Man, how are any of you ok with this?” Sam yelped.

 

Bucky, Clint and Natasha shrugged and Sam turned to Steve for backup with an almost desperate expression.

 

“Ex did warn us, it’s on us for assuming she would just tie up somebody who shot her.” Steve said heavily.

 

“Medics are on the way, I don’t think we’ll be getting anything out of _her_ soon.” Tony said.

 

“That’s what we get for trusting a psychopath I guess.” Sam said snappily.

 

“You act like she’s the only psychopath we know.” Tony snorted.

 

“Yeah Wilson, this your way of saying you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Natasha asked coolly, the smirk in her face the only sign she was teasing.

 

“You are all insane.” Sam grumbled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bucky was well tuned to his surroundings so as soon as he walked into his room upon his return to the compound, he knew something was wrong. There was a sliver of light in the dark room, coming from the bathroom. He silently unholstered his gun and crept towards the en-suite, smirking when he saw the discarded coat strewn across his bed and putting the gun down.

 

“I told you you’d be back.” He said, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

 

“Well, you said you knew how to stitch up bullet holes.” You called back.  

 

He pushed the door open, brow furrowed in concern that was only amplified when he saw what awaited him.

 

“Brought you a gift.” You said proudly, gesturing to the half dead guy in the bathtub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky: I need help. I have a stray cat that keeps bringing me dead things.   
> Steve: Try spritzing it with a water bottle?  
> Bucky: *Imagining it* I don't see that going well.   
> Sam: Catnip?   
> Bucky: *Briefly considers it* I could try but I have doubts.   
> Tony: Buy a dog?   
> Bucky: It's Ex, ok? She keeps bringing me bodies.   
> Clint: Aww, she likes you!


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky allowed himself a few moments of disbelief at the morbid and peculiar sight of you sat casually on the vanity, feet propped against the towel rack while an extremely pale, unconscious man bled to death in the bathtub.

 

“So, these people who were hunting you. You kept more than one of them alive and only told us about one?” He guessed.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How did you get him in here?” He asked.

 

“He’s thin and virtually bloodless, he wasn’t that heavy.” You explained.

 

“You carried him into a heavily guarded compound and dropped him in my bath. Ignoring the fact that Stark upgraded the security protocols to stop you breaking back in, why?” Bucky sighed.

 

“Oh, that.” You said jumping to your feet and leaning over the bath.

 

“Rise and Shine!” You said loudly, prodding the vic.

 

The man groaned and his eyes fluttered open. As soon as his vision cleared and he saw you leaning over him he whimpered and pressed himself into the wall in an attempt to get away from you.

 

“Relax Stormtrooper, the fun part is over. I just need you to tell my friend here what you told me and then he’ll stitch up all the holes I poked in you.” You said in a friendly tone.

 

Bucky moved to stand behind you, letting the man see him.

 

“Please.” The vic whimpered.

 

“Speak.” Bucky said coldly.

 

You glanced behind you in surprise at his willingness to play along with the scenario, acting as the Bad Cop to your Crazy Cop.

 

“We were told we had to get the Flashdrive away from The Executioner. That’s all we knew, that we had to get it back.” The man whimpered.

 

“That’s not all, she didn’t bring you here to tell me the obvious.” Bucky said before you could say anything.

 

“We were instructed to take her alive and find out how many drives she knew about besides the Asian Drive, and if she knew who had them.” The man whimpered and you turned around to look at Bucky with an excited expression.

 

“The _Asian_ drive. If there are six drives that means there’s probably one on every continent. That’s a lead… right?” You asked him.

 

“There are seven continents” Bucky frowned.

 

“Yeah but nobody lives in Antarctica.” You said like it was obvious.  

 

“Ok, so six drives with a 6th of the information on six continents. That’s still a lot of ground to cover. What else does he know.” Bucky asked, nodding at the Vic.

 

“Nothing of interest.” You shrugged, pulling a knife from somewhere and turning back to the bathtub.

 

“What happened to having me stitch him up?” Bucky asked quickly, grabbing your wrist.

 

“I lied.” You said, looking at him like he was an idiot.

 

“You can’t just kill him.” Bucky insisted.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he’s in my bathtub and I said so.” Bucky decided.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the team might be a little pissed when they find the corpse in the trash chute.” Bucky sighed.

 

“Why?” You asked again.

 

If it wasn’t for the genuine puzzlement in your voice, he would have thought you were trying to annoy him. But you were confused as to why murder wasn’t the right course of action here and actually seemed put out that he wasn’t letting you kill the man.

 

“The rest of the team will want to question him as well and make sure there’s not any more information he knows. Wanda can get inside his head, he might know more than he even realises. Like who hired him? How did they know where to find you, what you looked like?” Bucky explained calmly, pulling the knife out of your hand.

 

“He doesn’t know who hired him, he’s been working for the Six for years without meeting any of them. Money is put into an offshore account and it’s untraceable. They were given a photograph of me, they had teams watching all the airports out of Tokyo and trailed me to New York before they figured out where I was headed and tried to take me in. There, that’s all he knows.” You said, trying to pull the knife back.

 

“If you kill someone in the compound, the team won’t be able to ignore it. You won’t be able to work with us anymore.” Bucky tried to explain.

 

“I think he’s already dead.” You said, cocking your head and looking at the prone figure in the tub.

 

“Shit.” Bucky swore, leaning over to check for a pulse.

 

“At least most of the blood went down the drain.” You offered helpfully.

 

“Ex, go sit down. And stay.” Bucky ordered.

 

“What are you going to do?” You asked curiously.

 

“He’s still alive, barely.” He said heavily, pushing you into the bedroom.  

 

“You’re not really going to try and save him? _He shot me!_ ” You hissed.

 

That made Bucky pause.

 

“He’s the one who shot you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I’ll keep him alive to be questioned and he can spend the rest of his life in a fucking cell.” Bucky snarled, picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder.

 

“Stay.” He reminded you as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

You forcefully exhaled and sat down on the edge of Bucky’s bed with a thump. You kind of knew that you wouldn’t be allowed to kill the man when you brought him here but you had still carried him here. But…

 

_“We were told you always worked alone, that you would be easy to pick off. You weren’t supposed to run to the hero’s, it was a development we weren’t prepared for.”_

Your victim had taken a break from screaming to inform you of what he had perceived as your weakness and it made you think. Nobody expected you to ask for help, from the hero’s of all people. And that was something you could use, besides, they had contacts, equipment and resources that you didn’t. You weren’t a team player but you could pretend to be if it meant figuring this mystery out.

 

Because nobody had ever come close to catching you before, until now. And that scared you. Whoever was behind The Six had resources that the worlds governments did not and they had your photograph. That wasn’t something to be brushed aside. You weren’t afraid of the bad guys, the bad guys were afraid of you. If you had to work with The Avengers to keep it that way, so be it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Steve, she came wandering back in with a near corpse!” Sam yelled.

 

“Near being the key word. She knew he had information we needed and she brought him to us.” Steve argued calmly.

 

“We have two of her victims in the ICU and you’re still defending her. What is wrong with you today?”

 

“Why are you so against her?” Natasha asked Sam.

 

“Because she’s a psychopath! She’s a stone cold killer, she’s trouble. You really think she’s going to behave just because we ask her to? She’s going to murder someone and we’re going to look like we sanctioned it.” Sam raged.

 

“Not necessarily. Stark and I have worked something out for her, in case she came back.” Natasha said calmly.

 

“She’s an ex-shield consultant if anyone questions her. Nobody needs to know she’s The Executioner, she can be our dirty little secret. She’ll be right at home with all the other skeletons in the closet.” Tony joked.

 

“Why? We have all the information she does, so why do we need her?” Sam asked.

 

“Because she’s spent ten years hunting down the worst of the worst. She got there before Shield did sometimes. One woman, beating a global spy agency at it’s own game. She found this threat that we might never have known about until it was too late. You don’t have to like her but you have to admit, she’s a hell of an asset.” Natasha explained.

 

“I asked her not to kill someone once, and she didn’t. She cares more about saving innocent lives than her own agenda, which means there’s still hope for her.” Clint added.

 

You shook your head in exasperation at the loud argument you could hear from the corridor and decided it wasn’t a conversation you wanted to interrupt. Sam Wilson was the only one who seemed to understand you, he was the only one who knew that you were a lost cause. Any hope of you being a decent person had been destroyed a long, long time ago.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Tony had all voted in favour of working with you. Sam had been a resounding no, Bruce had abstained from voting and Wanda and Vision had decided that since they hadn’t spoken to you, it wouldn’t be prudent to have a say. Bucky went back to his room to fetch you but wasn’t that surprised when he walked past you leaning against a window and gazing outside.

 

“I told you to stay in the room.” Bucky snapped, stalking down the corridor towards you.

 

“I know.” You shrugged.

 

Bucky sighed and shook his head at you.

 

“Stark’s looking for you.” He said.

 

“To extend the official invitation?” You guessed.

 

“We have five flashdrives to find, it’s better if we work together.” Bucky told you, preparing himself for an argument.

 

“Ok.” You agreed in a bored voice.

 

There was something off about you, you were quieter and more subdued than usual. Which was saying a lot, it’s not like every other time he’d spoken to you you’d been bouncing off the walls. The closest he’d seen you to anything except cold was when you’d been about to kill someone in the bathroom.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you kill him.” He said, like he was apologising for taking away a toy.

 

Which was a frighteningly close analogy if he thought about it.

 

“I’m over it.” You said with a false smirk.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

 

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” You questioned.

 

“I’m a good judge of character.” He said.

 

“Not that good or you’d have put me down instead of trying to befriend me.” You said coldly.

 

Even the thought of hurting you made him feel ill. He didn’t care how dark you thought you were, you weren’t someone to be harmed or ‘put down’.

 

“Maybe I’m a better judge of character than you are.” He suggested.

 

“So you aren’t denying that you want to be my friend?” You asked.

 

“No.” He said simply.

 

He watched you try to process that information and felt a flutter of satisfaction about having wrestled the upper hand away from you.

 

“I’m not here to make friends.” You told him.

 

“No, you’re here to save the world. Making friends is just a bonus.” He smirked.

 

“What if I don’t want to be your friend?”

 

“I’ll change your mind.” He said.

 

“But…”

 

“Come on, Stark’s waiting.” He interrupted, walking away.

 

He now knew that you didn’t know how to interact with someone who you weren’t trying to kill, someone who knew exactly what you were and wasn’t disgusted by it. He had an edge because strange as it was, there was a kind of innocence to you. You were almost childlike in your inexperience with friendship and he revisited his previous interactions with you with this new perspective. A strange thought occurred to him and he turned to look back at you.

 

“Thankyou for bringing him here, I appreciated it.” He said, referring to the man in the bathtub.

 

Because when you’d said you’d brought him a gift, you hadn’t been joking. You could have put the man anywhere in the compound, but you’d chosen his room.

 

You visibly glowed under his praise and pushed away from the window to follow him.

 

Bucky bit down a grin because you didn’t even realise what you were doing. You were trying to make friends.

 

“There’s our little Jack The Ripper! Come on, I have something to show you.” Tony shouted when Bucky led you to the lab.

 

You leaned away with a puzzled look when Tony slung an arm around your shoulders and dragged you out of the lab. You threw an almost helpless look at Bucky who just waved jauntily and let the billionaire lead you away.

 

“Where are we going?” You demanded, picking Tony’s arm of your shoulder with a grimace and moving at least a few feet away.

 

He barely seemed to notice and stopped in front of a door.

 

“Now there are rules to be followed, no blaring music after 11pm, no leaving dishes in your room, no torturing people on the premises, no leaving dirty laundry or dead bodies lying around, don’t eat anything that has my name on it and if you hook up with someone, put a sock on the door.” Tony instructed, opening the door.

 

He stood in the room and held his arms out, presenting the bedroom to you.

 

“ _I am **not** moving in!” _You snapped.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Even when asleep, his instincts were switched on. His breathing didn’t change at all and his eyes remained closed as he turned over, his hand reaching for the gun under his pillow. He sat up abruptly, gun pointed at the intruder.

 

“Cookie?” You asked casually, offering the box of Oreo’s that had ‘Property of Tony Stark’ written on it to Bucky without looking at him.

 

You were sat cross legged on the end of his bed and crunching on the pilfered cookies while scribbling something in a notepad.

 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, putting the gun down.

 

“Natasha kicked me out of her room.” You explained.

 

“That’s…. That’s not an answer.” He frowned.

 

You held the notebook up as if it explained everything. To himself he could admit he’d already had thoughts about you in his bed, none of them went like this though.

 

“So I did some digging into Sora Kawashima. These are all his contacts, his business dealings, I think we can rule most of them out.” You explained.

 

Bucky peered at the list of names you had written down, noting they were listed under ‘to deal with later’.

 

“Ok?” He said.

 

“I specifically looked into contacts he had outside of Japan, one’s that weren’t a part of his normal criminal undertakings. Once a year, on the same date, he disappears for a whole week. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it but it’s always In _June._ The first week of June actually.” You explained, sounding almost excited.

 

“The sixth day of the sixth month. The Six.” He said, cottoning on quickly.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Where does he go?”

 

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” You admitted, slamming the notebook closed.

 

“It’s a start though, a lead.” He consoled, actually impressed by what you’d already figured out.

 

“So I thought we should go back to Japan, find out if any of Sora’s friends know where he went during that week.” You told him.

 

“We can discuss it with the team in the morning.”

 

“There’s a flight leaving JFK in two hours.” You pushed.

 

“There’s a quinjet on the premised that I can board without setting a metal detector off.” He deadpanned.

 

“Ok, I’ll go get ready.” You said, standing up.

 

“Japan will still be there in the morning and Sora’s killer wandering around asking questions isn’t a good plan.” He argued.

 

“First of all, we’re kind of on a clock here. The Six know we’re onto them. Secondly, he killed himself and nobody will know what I look like.” You informed him.

 

Bucky sighed and looked at the ceiling, hoping to find some strength.

 

“I’ll get dressed.” He grumbled.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point onwards, the trigger warning for gore is in full effect.


	6. Chapter 6

“Why did we have to bring her?” Sam asked.

 

“It was my lead, my idea, my plan.” You shot back, damn near pouting.

 

“I can’t believe I got dragged out of bed in the middle of the night for this.” Sam grumbled.

 

“I don’t think he likes me.” You stage whispered to Bucky.

 

“He doesn’t like me either, don’t take it personally.” Bucky assured you, smirking.

 

“Stop bickering over the comm line. Please.” Steve begged.  

 

You and Bucky were currently on the streets of Tokyo, sat at a café outside an office block. Steve and Sam were on the roof of the opposite building. Your target was Fumi Hagashi, Sora Kawashima’s mistress. Sam said he was more likely to have told his mistress any useful information than his wife, and Fumi was an easy target since she wasn’t able to publicly mourn.

 

“We’ve got eyes on the target, she’s on the 14th floor at her desk.” Sam said.

 

“Cool, shall we go and nab her now?” You asked.

 

“We discussed this Ex.” Steve sighed.

 

“I just don’t see how looking at her from afar is helpful at all.” You bitched.

 

“I’ve got this.” Bucky said and switched his comm to one way so Steve and Sam couldn’t hear him.

 

“It’s a precautionary measure. We don’t know that The Six haven’t come to the same conclusion we have and are watching her as well, perhaps making a move to take her out. Maybe she knows more than we think, maybe she knows nothing. Observing the target is our best and safest course of action. You can’t tell me you’ve never had to observe a mark?” Bucky asked you.

 

“Of course I have, when I had to. She’s a secretary though, she doesn’t have a security detail I need to figure out how to get past. What she has is information I need and if The Six are waiting for me to make a move on her, that serves my purpose just as well.” You argued, sipping at your coffee.

 

“We’re The Avengers, we can’t just storm in and drag her out. We need to play this smarter, we need to play by the rules.” Bucky tried to explain.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, so sit tight and observe.” He instructed.

 

“Ok, got it.” You said.

 

Bucky exhaled in relief that you’d finally stopped arguing and sat back in his seat to observe as well, but he was observing you. He had carefully watched you the whole day, picking up on every little detail. He noticed how you watched people walking past, your eyes always drawn to things he would have dismissed. A couple’s interlaced fingers, an old man laughing boisterously, a woman clutching flowers in her hands as she hurried down the street with a smile. He’d been amused by the way you perused the menu before ordering a fancy, flavoured coffee in flawless Japanese. When a small breeze drifted over you, your eyes had fluttered closed like you were savouring the sensation.

 

It all painted a picture, of someone who was living vicariously, the way only someone who hadn’t always had that option would do.

 

Because in contrast to the almost childlike excitement you displayed at little things, there was the way your training bled into every action. The way you angled your chair so the wall was at your back, the way your right hand rested close to the concealed holster on your hip, the rimrod straight spine, the way you’d taken the tiniest sip of your coffee and waited exactly ten minutes before actually drinking it.

 

He couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way the sunlight streamed through your hair, creating a kaleidoscope of colours in the strands that couldn’t normally be seen in normal light. That observation served no real purpose, it was just for his own enjoyment. You truly were breathtakingly beautiful and even though he knew how stained with blood your hands were, it didn’t deter him at all. In a selfish way, it made him want you more. Because The Executioner wouldn’t be horrified by his past, wouldn’t run screaming from him.

 

You stood up and he sat forward in alarm.

 

“Relax, I’m going to the bathroom.” You assured him.

 

“We’re on a stakeout.” He told you.

 

“Yeah but there’s two of us. I have my comm if in the five minutes I’m gone, something happens.”

 

“You still shouldn’t be wandering off.” He argued.

 

“Bucky, I really need to pee.” Your eyes wide and pleading.

 

“Hurry up.” He said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Thank you.” You said, rushing away.

 

He sat back and kept an eye on the building while he waited. Five minutes passed and you didn’t return. He glanced back into the café but he couldn’t see you.

 

“Shit.” He swore under his breath.

 

A woman who could unflinchingly work a punching bag for an hour while suffering a bullet wound wouldn’t leave in the middle of a stakeout because her bladder was bothering her. You’d batted your fucking eyelashes at him and he’d let you skip away like an idiot. He ran into the café, ignoring the workers babbling at him when he pushed the door to the womans bathroom open. They were empty and a quick glance into the trashbin revealed your discarded comm unit.

 

“I lost Ex.” He said to Sam and Steve as he left the café and crossed the road.

 

“Well the good news is, we just found her.” Sam snapped, sounding less than pleased.

 

The elevator opened with a ding and you stepped onto the 14th floor, making sure to give a friendly wave out of the window towards the roof of the building parallel to the one you were in. You smiled politely at the people you walked past until you found Fumi Hagashi sitting at her desk. You sat next to her, ignoring her jolt of surprise.

 

“Kon'nichiwa Fumi, issho ni sanpo shimasu ka?” You said sweetly, making sure she felt the barrel of your gun pressing into her side. (Hello Fumi, take a walk with me will you?)

 

Fifteen minutes later, Steve and Sam met Bucky back in the lobby after they had combed through the building and failed to find a trace of you. You hadn’t taken her out of the back door, front entrance or gone to the roof.

 

“How the hell did she walk out of a building in broad daylight with a hostage, past all of us?” Sam asked.

 

“She didn’t.” Bucky whispered, kicking himself for missing the obvious.

 

“What?”

 

“She’s still in the building.” He said, running for the stairs.

 

If it were him he’d go for the basement, a boiler room preferably. So that’s where he ran, Steve and Sam on his heels. He found the basement easily enough and stormed through it until he found a nondescript door that said ‘maintenance only’ in Japanese and pulled out his gun, kicking the door down.

 

“You took forever.” You said, waving at him.

 

“Ex, stand down!” Steve ordered.

 

Your ‘hostage’ was tied to a chair and as far as Bucky could see, unharmed. The only worrying thing about the scene was the razor sharp knife you had pressed to the womans throat.

 

“Relax Cap, Miss Hagashi was just about to tell me where her lover would holiday in June.” You said calmly.

 

“I do not know. He said he was to reunite with old friends! I do not know where.” She sobbed.

 

“Think harder, your life really does depend on it.” You said lowly.

 

“I… I picked him up from the airport last year, his flight arrived from London. That is all I know.” She said, her eyes pleading with Captain America to help her.

 

“Alright, we have what we need Ex. Let her go.” Steve said to you.

 

“Ex, she’s just a woman. She’s innocent.” Bucky added.

 

“I know, I know.” You sighed.

 

“Yes, Innocent! I never had anything to do with his business I swear!” The woman yelled, jumping to her own defence.

 

The mood immediately shifted because all three Avengers knew she’d just screwed up.

 

“You knew? You knew what he did and you let it happen?” You snarled.

 

“Ex, we’ll hand her over to the authorities.” Sam said calmly, stepping forwards with his hands out.

 

“I knew but it wasn’t me!” She cried.

 

“Apathy isn’t a defence.” You told her.

 

“Stand down.” Steve demanded loudly.

 

The tension in the room was rising rapidly and Bucky could see the change in you. He didn’t know why but when he thought of you Executing someone, he imagined you did it with coldness and fury. He had been projecting, seeing a soldier doing what they perceived as their duty. There was nothing cold or detached about you in this moment, there was no calm. Your lips were curled in a sneer, your eyes were blazing with hatred.

 

“She’s just as guilty as he was.” You snapped.

 

“That’s not for you to decide.” Sam tried to reason.

 

“The hell it’s not. I’m The Judge, The Jury and the fucking Executioner.” You declared and with an almost imperceptible flick of your wrist, a minute jerk of the hand, you slashed her throat open.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

You idly swiped your fingers through the blood running down her chest and flicked your fingers, sending red droplets spinning through the air. Bucky’s breath was laboured as he stood, frozen with shock. Steve and Sam were in a similar position. The quick brutality had been done so quickly that they hadn’t been able to stop it. They had foolishly kept their weapons holstered, forgetting that you weren’t one of the good guys, thinking they could talk you down.

 

“You _killed_ her.” Steve stated.

 

“Yes, I did.” It was not the death you would have chosen for her, it was too quick and not nearly poetic enough.

 

Had you been free to do as she deserved she would have died slowly, locked away and forgotten about as she starved. But you’d settled for a quick death and consoled yourself that she’d died in front of three superhero’s, her last thought would have been the knowledge that they couldn’t save her.

 

Sam was the first one to pull himself out of his shock and pulled his gun out, steadily pointing at you.

 

“Put your hands up.” He ordered.

 

Bucky swallowed thickly. The situation had already plummeted south and it was still sinking. Steve moved to stand at Sam’s back, Shield poised and at the ready. You had just straight up murdered someone in front of them and no matter how hard he wracked his brain, Bucky couldn’t figure a way out of this for you.

 

“No.”

 

Sam didn’t falter, meeting your gaze with as much determination as your refusal had held.

 

“Drop the knife and put your hands up.” He said calmly.

 

You cocked your head to the side and smirked.

 

“No.”

 

“You think I won’t shoot you?”

 

“Do what he says Ex. We won’t hurt you, you have my word.” Steve said solemnly.

 

“I never tried to hide what I was, I told you. You _knew_ and you worked with me anyway, now you want to take me in because you can’t pretend I’m anything else anymore? You don’t have the option of closing your eyes to the truth so I should suffer for it?” You said coldly.

 

“She was unarmed, tied up. She was not a threat and you killed her.” Sam hissed.

 

“That’s what I do.”

 

“Not anymore. You’re done.” Sam said.

 

There was absolutely no warning, no tell, no flicker of warning on your face as the knife left your hand and whizzed across the room. Steve brought the Shield in front of Sam and the knife dinged off of it but it had only been a distraction and with breath-taking speed and dexterity you darted forwards, reaching behind yourself to pull out the gun in the holster at the small of your back as you dropped to your knees and slid the last few feet to the men.

 

Sam was forced to re-aim and Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the strange way you had unholstered the gun. You leaned to the side, narrowly avoiding the shield as it flew past you. Sam was a fraction of a second too slow and you had your gun pointed at him before he could point his at you again.

 

“I can pull the trigger before you can stop me Cap.” You warned.

 

“Then pull it.” Bucky said, speaking for the first time since you’d slashes Shumi’s throat.

 

“Your faith in me is rapidly going from cute to worrying.” You told him.

 

“I know you would pull the trigger, I want you to do it.” He responded.

 

“Barnes!” Sam snapped.

 

“Bucky stop. Ex, you’re making this worse than it has to be. Please, let me help you.” Steve said but the darkness of his tone gave him away, he was barely containing his anger.

 

You did have a gun pointed at one of his best friends after all.

 

“Pull the trigger Ex.” Bucky said, ignoring everyone else.

 

“Reverse psychology won’t work on me Bucky.” You snarled.

 

“Pull it.” He demanded, strolling towards you.

 

“Stop it.” You hissed at him.

 

“Pull the fucking trigger Ex.” He commanded, looming over you.

 

Your knuckles were turning white, you were gripping the gun that hard. Until he yanked it out of your hand and pointed it at himself, pulling the trigger.

 

Sam and Steve jolted forward to stop him but stopped when the gun clicked. Bucky smirked and yanked you to your feet, slipping his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and pulling the clip out to show his teammates.

 

“She popped the clip when she unholstered it. She couldn’t bring herself to point a loaded gun at a hero.” He said smugly.

 

The anger drained out of Steve and his shoulders dropped and he almost seemed to be the 100 year old man he was, even if he didn’t look it. He stared you down, his jaw ticking as he pinned you with his gaze.

 

“Bucky, take her back to the jet. Sam and I need to clean this mess up.” He sighed.

 

You were disturbingly quiet as Bucky stood behind you and shepherded you out of the room.

 

“We really gonna clean up her mess? How?” Sam asked.

 

“We’ll tell the truth, just leaving out the part where we brought her here and she left with us” Steve answered.

 

“She’s damaged Steve.” Sam said wearily.

 

“I know.”

 

“We need to do something.” He pressed.

 

“I know.”

 

“We need to help her.” Sam insisted.

 

“I kn… what?” Steve was visibly shocked.

 

“She wouldn’t even bluff it, she took the bullets out of the gun. She just cut a woman’s throat without blinking but couldn’t point a loaded gun at me. Her morals are completely intact, it’s her sense of justice that’s skewed and something tells me that’s not her fault.” Sam sighed.

 

“Five minutes ago you wanted to arrest her, you’ve been outspoken about her since she arrived.” Steve pointed out.

 

“And then she endangered her freedom because she didn’t want to risk hurting me. I don’t think she’s someone who can be saved but if we don’t try, it says more about us than it does her.” Sam said, but he didn’t look happy about it.

 

“I wish you’d told me this before I sent her away with Bucky.” Steve said wryly.

 

“Son of a… You set it up for her to run?” Sam snapped.

 

“If anyone can get through to her, it’s Bucky. If she’s not on the quinjet when we get back, nothing could have kept her there.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You killed that woman just to prove how far gone you are, to scare us off.” Bucky said lowly as he escorted you through the streets.

 

You looked at him with genuine puzzlement.

 

“I don’t kill to prove a point, if I did that I’d be no better than the people I execute.” You said, genuinely offended by the insinuation.

 

“So why sneak off and grab her? What the hell were you thinking?” He snapped.

 

“You… but… I…. You said the Avengers couldn’t grab her!” You stuttered.

 

Bucky’s head whipped around to look at you in disbelief.

 

“You thought I _wanted_ you to take her?”

 

“Didn’t you?” You asked.

 

“No! No, doll.” He sighed.

 

Everytime he thought he had you figured out, another piece of the puzzle would fall into place and change the whole picture. You had kidnapped her to help him, and you had killed her because you genuinely thought she needed to die.

 

You looked disappointed and hurt and he resisted the urge to do something, anything to get that look of your face. It wasn’t fair, serial killer weren’t supposed to be so damn beautiful and they definitely weren’t supposed to invoke his protective side.

 

Not for the first time, he wondered how the hell you had ended up this way.

 

“What did your father do to you?” He asked bluntly.

 

“Taught me everything he knew.” You said quickly, without hesitating.

 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Hey, stop.” He demanded, grabbing your arm and pulling you aside.

 

“Why does it matter to you?” You asked, looking at him with an innocent kind of confusion.

 

“You know the difference between right and wrong Ex. You know what you do is wrong. So why do you still do it?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~Twenty-Two Years Ago~~~~~~~~~~

 

_“Straighten your back, you’re slouching.” Your ‘tutor’ barked at you, circling the room with the whip slung casually over his shoulder._

_You pushed your shoulders back, straightening your spine even though your whole body was trembling with the pain. Hours you’d been stood there, balancing on the pedestal. Falling was not an option, the punishment alone would be severe but the ground was carefully lined with broken glass._

_“Please, I’m so tired.” You whimpered._

_You were too young to have a proper concept of time and there was no clock in the room but it had been hours, you knew that._

_“Oh, you’re tired? YOU’RE TIRED?” He yelled, cracking the whip towards you._

_It had been a bluff, a threat but you flinched anyway and your careful balance was lost, sending you tumbling to the floor. There was no sympathy in your tutors eyes as you screamed in pain, no sympathy for the thin rivulets of blood streaming down your arms._

_“If you flinch in anticipation of pain, you will suffer more in the long run. Learn to accept that which you can not stop.” He said coldly, yanking you to your feet._

_“Start again.” He ordered, not letting you even pull the shards of glass from your skin before you were put back on the wooden pedestal._

_The next time he flicked the whip, you didn’t fall. The second time, you didn’t move an inch. The third time, it wasn’t a bluff and you fell again._

_“She does not seem to be learning.” You father voice said and you looked up to see him stood at the door._

_“She is weak.” Your tutor argued._

_“Everyone is weak until they learn otherwise. You are supposed to be teaching her and yet she hasn’t learned a thing.” Your father snarled._

_The tutor paled at the anger directed towards him._

_“Perhaps another will succeed where you have failed.” Your father mused and waved his hand._

_Another man, one you had never seen before entered the room. He walked straight over to your tutor and without any warning, slid a knife between his ribs. Your tutor fell to the ground with a gurgling cry as blood bubbled from his lips. The strange mans expression had not once changed as he had killed him or as he left him to die on the floor and turned to you._

_“Get up.” The stranger commanded and you obeyed immediately, fear coursing through you._

_“Teach her.” Your father commanded._

_“Pain is just a sensation. It can be ignored and your body can be bent to your will.” The stranger told you, pointing to the pedestal._

_You wordlessly stood on it, trying to control your shaking limbs. Minutes passed by and slowly the pain you were feeling faded from consuming to irritating. Within hours the pain was little more than background noise, the tiredness of your body just an ignorable facet of the torture. Little by little, you sunk into yourself until your mind was separated from your body and what you were physically feeling had no bearing. With every crack of the whip you stared blankly ahead, your eyes as lifeless as your tutors._

_“Good.” The father said with a nod of approval._

_You didn’t move, didn’t get down. You weren’t sure if his approval meant permission and you didn’t want to chance it. You wanted him to nod in approval again, so you stayed._

_“Get down.” He commanded and you waited a moment, ensuring you didn’t seem too relieved or eager before you stepped down._

_“Come here.” You father said._

_You walked over to him and he silently held out a knife to you._

_“Do you hate him?” Your father asked._

_“Yes.” You whispered._

_“Then you know what to do.” You father said._

_You took the knife from him. You did know what to do._

 

~~~~~~~~~~Today~~~~~~~~~~

 

“If I hate someone, I kill them. If I hate someone, they die. That’s what I was taught.” You said, like it was really that simple.

 

And suddenly, Bucky realised it was.              

 

“Come back to the compound, come back with me. Let me teach you another way.” He offered.

 

“Teach me another way?” You repeated.

 

“You caused a lot of trouble for us by killing her. She would have suffered just as much, if not more in prison. You didn’t need to kill her and you did it anyway.” He admonished.

 

“Killing is kind of what I do. I agreed to work with you, to help you but I didn’t agree to change my methods. Notice I’m not asking you to change yours…”

 

“What?” He asked, thrown.

 

“I’m not trying to change you, to turn the Avengers into killers. I’m letting you do things your way. Why can’t you give me the same courtesy?” You demanded.

 

He didn’t have an answer for that, not one you’d listen to anyway. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to explain morality, justice and the proper procedure, you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t even being purposefully obtuse, it was just such a foreign concept to you.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Tony, we have a problem. We lost Ex, she left. We sent her back to the quinjet with Bucky, hoping he’d get her to stick around but…” Steve said heavily, holding the phone to his ear and trying to ignore Sam’s judgemental look.

 

“Tinmans not as smooth as you hoped?” Tony sighed.

 

“He couldn’t make her stay, so he left with her.” Steve explained.

 

“What?!”

 

“He left a note. He took the quinjet and took her to London to follow a lead. Bucky and Ex are in the wind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky: If you can't beat em, join em.   
> Sam: I was just starting to warm up to her and she stole one of my super soldiers. Not cool.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uber gore warning for this chapter

The cold English air bit into your skin, whipping your hair around your face madly as you walked.

 

“So we’re in London. What do we do, check every hotel reservation from June 6th last year?” Bucky scoffed.

 

“No. We use logic. Kawashima was a criminal, he had a criminal empire. It’s logical to assume the other members of the six do as well. Every city, every nation has a criminal underbelly. And almost always, there is a crossover with another organization. A deal, a feud, an agreement. But if you’re holding the keys to the end of the world, you’d do everything in your power to avoid any overlap. So, we can rule out human traffickers for a start.” You explained calmly.

 

“You want to hunt down the major players in London to figure out which ones _don’t_ have any ties to Kawashima? That could take a while.”

 

“So we had better get started. And no, we’re asking who _does_ have ties to him.”

 

“Because it’ll stop the six from figuring out what we’re doing and people will fall over themselves to prove that they don’t have ties to him.” Bucky guessed easily.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“So where do we start?” He asked you.

 

You smirked and tilted your head, indicating a building to him.

 

“Are you serious? We’re going to find criminals in a hipster coffee shop?” He asked incredulously.

 

“Not all shady business’s are fronted by a seedy nightclub.” You pointed out.

 

“But this place serves… maple infused green tea?” He said, reading the chalkboard through the window, from across the road.

 

“If that’s not proof of illegal dealings, I don’t know what is.” You sniggered.

 

“So how are we playing this?” He sighed.

 

“You go in, order something and sit down. Wear these.” You instructed, handing him a hair tie and a pair of sunglasses.

 

He gave you a dirty look but took them, tying his hair back and slipping the glasses on.

 

“See you on the other side Sarge.” You said, winking at him and striding into the café.

 

You walked straight up to the counter, leaning on it and fixing the barista with a charming smile.

 

“I’ll have a blood orange tea, extra bloody and whatever the owner recommends with it.” You told her, knowing full well what you ordered wasn’t on the menu.

 

“He recommends the death by chocolate brownies, that interest you?” She said without missing a beat.

 

“I’ll have two, no make it three.” You recited.

 

This wasn’t your first time in this establishment and the ‘barista’ now knew you weren’t here for the overpriced coffee.

 

“Who’s it for?” She asked.

 

“Lucy.”

 

If you weren’t watching for it, you wouldn’t have noticed the way her shoulders tensed up at your alias.

 

“Say, my mobile’s dead and I _really_ need to call my boss. Do you think I could trouble you to use your phone?” You asked.

 

“Of course, it’s in back.”

 

“I know the way.” You whispered.

 

She visibly paled and nodded. You turned and made your way to the employee’s only door, catching Bucky’s eye as you did. He looked like any other Hipster in the place and if it wasn’t for the slight tick in his jaw, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was pissed at you. You maybe should have mentioned you were splitting off to do your own thing but it was more fun this way.

 

He had promised to do things your way without interfering but you weren’t stupid, you knew it was a lie. He was waiting, evaluating, looking for a chink in your ice cold armour, a crack in the walls you put up. He was looking for a chance to save you. You were betting you could break him before he found what he was looking for.

 

You made your way out of the café via the back door and through the connecting tunnels into the large warehouse behind it. People were milling around and unsurprisingly, not one of them met your eye. They all ducked out of the way, one man even going as far as to flatten himself against a wall as you passed. You kept your expression stony and your pace brisk as you made your way to the second level and didn’t bother knocking on the office door before your barged in.

 

“Well if it isn’t my lovely little devil.”

 

“Linda.” You greeted tersely.

 

The older women crossed her long legs and held out her arms in greeting. You started her down until she tutted and pretended to be disappointed, folding her hands on her waist.

 

“To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure Lucy? I set you up with more than enough information to keep you busy for months last time you were here.” She said.

 

“And one of those leads led to another lead that led to another and so on and so forth, now I need to know the extent of your dealings with The Japanese mafia. Specifically, the Kawashima empire.”

 

“Kawashima? I do believe the rumours are he committed suicide, though there are whispers that The Executioner got to him… something about an elevator full of diced up bodyguards.” She said, raising her eyebrows at you.

 

“I’m not here to dance around the issue.” You warned.

 

“You never want to dance at all.” She pouted.

 

“Oh Linda. I dance. Just not with you.” You smirked.

 

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face that she quickly hid behind a vipers smile.

 

“I don’t have any dealing with Kawashima’s organization, had a teensy scrape about seven years back when they used one of my channels across the Swiss border but he paid me off and that was the end of it.” She said.

 

“What was he moving?” You snarled.

 

“No idea darling, I don’t ask those kind of personal questions.” She shrugged.

 

“Bullshit _darling_. You would have found out exactly what he moved and what it was worth before you accepted his payoff to make sure he didn’t screw you out of a bigger payday.”

 

Your discerning gaze picked up on the way she paled just a touch and the pulse point on her throat jumped.

 

“It was before you, before our deal.” She protested.

 

“Then you can tell me.” You said soothingly.

 

“Girls. He was moving girls. Eighteen of them.” She said, tilting her chin upwards in an effort to appear unphased.

 

“And that was the last time you dealt with him?” You asked her.

 

“Haven’t heard a peep since.” She confirmed.

 

You believed her.

 

“I want to know who was dealing with him, I want to know every single deal he made. Tell people Linda… tell them The Executioner is going to be knocking on their doors looking for information.”

 

“You don’t normally call ahead.” She said, surprised by the strange nature of your request.

 

“I don’t normally offer leniency either. But anyone who helps me out get a free pass today. My focus is on Kawashima’s legacy and nobody else right now.”

 

“I’ll put the word out.” She agreed.

 

“You might need to write it down.” You said coldly.

 

She felt the change in the air, sensed the danger coming for her and reacted accordingly. She pulled out the gun that had been strapped to the underside of the desk and aimed it at you, pulling the trigger. You were close enough that all you had to do was reach out and calmly push her had aside, sending the bullet into the wall behind you. You wrapped your fingers around her wrist and twisted, making her drop the gun and you kept twisting until the bones in her wrist snapped under your grip and she screamed.

 

She clawed at you with her other hand, screaming for backup.

 

“They know who’s in here with you, they aren’t coming through that door.” You told her, pushing her back into the chair.

 

“We had a deal!” She argued desperately.

 

“You handed me criminals to stave off your own execution but you always knew this day was coming.” You laughed cruelly.

 

“No, no, I can give you more! Please.”

 

You held her good arm down and pulled a knife from under your coat, slamming into her hand and pinning her to the chair.

 

“Eighteen girls, sold into slavery because you choose not to help them. All you had to so was _tell someone_. But you let him pay you off, let him buy your silence. Was it worth it? Think carefully, these will be your last words.” You hissed.

 

“Fuck you!” She snarled.

 

“As last words go… I’ve heard better.” You scoffed, pulling a second knife out, a wickedly sharp one.

 

Her eyes widened as you gripped her jaw and squeezed, putting your blade to work. You could have done a much neater job if you cared to, but this was about sending a message so you didn’t mind breaking her jaw or the cuts across her lips as you sawed through her tongue, pulling it from her mouth and flinging it onto the desk.

 

“This… this is the true price of your silence.” You declared, placing your hand over her mouth and holding it there.

 

She thrashed wildly, her eyes bulging out of her head as she desperately fought to breathe but you didn’t let up. You held her down and watched with satisfaction as she choked on her own blood until the last bit of light died from her eyes and her body slumped, her head lolling to the side.

 

There was no remorse in you, no disgust in yourself for your actions as you pressed two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse and when you found none. You dipped your fingers into her mouth. Smearing her blood on the wall behind her corpse you left instructions for all her ‘employee’s’, a warning for the criminal underworld of London.

 

The Executioner was in town and she wasn’t leaving without what she came for.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bucky had been characteristically silent since he followed you out of the coffee shop and through the streets of London until you led him down a cobbled side street to a charming boutique hotel.

 

“This is where we are staying?” He asked, not sounding particularly fussed about it one way or the other.

 

“I can check us in if you want to go and get supplies?” You offered.

 

“Supplies?”

 

“Change of clothes, shaving cream and razors, quickly call your boyfriend and make sure he’s not mad you ran away with another woman…” You quipped.

 

He rolled his eyes at you and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear before he spoke.

 

“In that café, you told them your name was Lucy.” He said.

 

“It’s an Alias.”

 

“What kind of Alias is Lucy?”

 

“It’s short for Lucifer. Because when I come calling, I bring hell with me.”

 

“Should have guessed that you’d have a flair for the dramatic.” He scoffed.

 

“Comes with the territory of being a serial killer but I didn’t come up with it. The recently deceased drug smuggler who ran the joint did.” You explained.

 

“You killed someone?”

 

“How is that even remotely surprising at this point?” You asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

 

“It’s not. You were well acquainted enough with a criminal for them to give you a nickname though, that _is_ surprising.” He shot back.

 

“How do you think I find my victims? Do you think I skulk on rooftops and watch the streets for criminal activity?” You scoffed.

 

“Fair enough.” He said in a tone that let you know this topic would be revisited.

 

“Go call your big blonde boyfriend before he has an aneurism. I’ll check us in. We can be…. Mr and Mrs Smith.” You decided.

 

“Unimaginative. Mr and Mrs Wilson.” He retorted.

 

You laughed at the Irony and subtle jab at the Falcon. When Sam found out you’d been using his name he was going to throw a bitch fit. You hoped you were there to see it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ex: *Makes a joke about Steve and Bucky dating*
> 
> Bucky: *Says nothing*
> 
> Ex: So your BOYFRIEND… You know… STEVE, STEVE ROGERS,YOUR BOYFRIEND.
> 
> Bucky: *Says nothing*
> 
> Ex: Just tell me if you’re dating him or not! I need to know!


	9. Chapter 9

Once you were in the suite you gave it a thorough checking over, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The bedroom/lounge were clean, as was the bathroom and you went about stowing weapons around the room before you set up the laptop that had been in your small go bag.

 

You quickly identified the local WiFi’s available and decided on one for a bookshop a couple of doors down, clicking on it with the encryption program you were running so the IP would be run through several countries in a longs, convoluted loop. You logged into the cuisine blog you’d set up and clicked on the inbox, scrolling through the messages. No leads yet, but it had only been an hour or so since you’d left your bloody request. With a few strokes of the keyboard you quickly looked through all your assets and made sure everything was in order before you turned the screen to black and grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the shower.

 

You were in the process of rinsing conditioner out of your hair when you heard Bucky come in the room, calling out to let you know it was him.

 

“We need to talk.” He said as soon as you walked into the room, dressed in sweatpants and a tanktop and towel drying your hair.

 

“They wouldn’t have let me in if I had you with me. Best case scenario they would have thought you were a stranger, worst case scenario they would have recognized you.” You told him coolly.

 

He wasn’t thrown by the fact that you automatically knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, both of you knew the conversation was inevitable.

 

“Did you know you were going to kill someone before you went in?” He asked, staring you down with unrestrained ire.  

 

“Yes.” You said simply.

 

“Are you sure that’s not the reason you left me behind?” He challenged.

 

“Would you have just stood by and let me do it?” You challenged back teasingly.

 

“You think you’re the only killer here? Everyone on The Avengers has blood on our hands, some of us more than others.” He snapped.

 

“If you have to kill someone you’ll do it, I know. But you don’t take pleasure in it, I do. You might have let me kill her but you would have drawn the line at me pinning her down and cutting her tongue out and forcing her to choke to death on her own blood. Or am I wrong about you?” You flung the towel down and met his eye, waiting for him to back down.

 

“You might take pleasure in what you do but that’s not why you do it. You killed ‘her’ that way for a reason, for a purpose. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

 

“Easy to say that after the fact but you and your merry men are far too uncomfortable with what I do to sanction it.” You told him.

 

“It’s not the things you do or even how you do them that makes them feel uncomfortable. It’s the lack of remorse. People love their guilt, they get attached to their demons and then you waltz in, stained with blood and not a trace of regret in your eyes. It’s disconcerting.” He tried to explain, almost desperate to make you understand.

 

“Are you attached to your demons Bucky?” You asked him.

 

“I’m learning to live with them. The question is doll, where the hell are your demons?” He rebutted.

 

“I **am** my demons.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~Fifteen Years Ago~~~~~~~~~~

 

_There was an axe hanging over your head and you were waiting for it to drop._

_It wasn’t a metaphor._

_It had been six hours that you’d been stood there, waiting for the rope to be cut and the axe to fall._

_“If you fail this test, you will die. Do not fail.” Your father told you before he left the room._

_As you waited you listened. Voices carried in old houses like these and you could hear most of what was being discussed in your father office next door._

_“You’re too harsh with the girl, you’re going to break her before she even comes of age and then where will we be? It’s not as if you can produce another heir, not one that can unite the clans anyway.” Your uncle warned._

_“She is my only hope for a legacy, I would rather see her die than let my legacy pass to someone unworthy. If you commit to something you must remain unwavering in your resolve. Once you turn down a path there is no turning back. It is dangerous to allow yourself the luxury of changing your mind, it leads to self-doubt and self-doubt leads to mistakes.” Your father replied calmly._

_When he spoke there was an eerie silence that followed and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end._

_The axe dropped._

_Your father and uncle opened the door between the rooms to see you stood there, holding the axe in your hands._

_“She didn’t move until it fell and she caught it.” One of your fathers goons, the one who had been charged with watching you reported._

_“Well done. You have completed your education, now you are ready to learn from me. From now on, I will teach you. You will learn everything I know.” You father decreed._

 

~~~~~~~~~~Today~~~~~~~~~

 

“Where the hell did you come from Ex? What’s your story?” He asked you, advancing on you until you were forced to crane your neck to look up at him.

 

“It doesn’t really matter. What I am isn’t a result of how I was raised Bucky. The fact I do what I do so well is because of my upbringing, but what I am was a choice.” You sighed.

 

“If it’s a choice, you can change your mind.” He implored.

 

“I didn’t say it was my choice.” You laughed humourlessly.

 

“Your fathers?” He guessed.

 

“No. I wanted to be what you’re trying to make me into, once upon a time. But a very smart man told me I wasn’t a hero and he was right.” You said heavily, something almost close to remorse flitting across your face as you spoke.

 

“Who?” He frowned.

 

“It doesn’t matter, he’s dead.” You said, clenching your jaw.

 

“It matters if he’s still in your head.” Bucky told you softly.

 

Your expression went cold and you huffed out disappointedly at him, shaking your head wryly.

 

“You claim to be ok with what I do but the second you sensed a weakness, you pounced.” You chastised.

 

Bucky stormed away when he realized you’d played him _again_. Your little moment of sadness for what could have been was a test and he’d failed. Every conversation he had with you solved a little bit more of the puzzle but somehow he always ended up with even more pieces to try and find a place for, more to solve. But the more complicated it got, the more he wanted, the more he needed to figure it out.

 

You ignored his inner struggle and typed in the password to unlock your laptop, checking the inbox.

 

There was one message there. One important message.

 

“Just give me something, anything.” He pleaded.

 

“What?” You frowned.

 

“Tell me something true, something real about you.”

 

“I can tell you The Executioner will kill again, tonight. We have a lead. Are you in or are you ready to admit defeat and go home?”

 

“Tell me one thing about you, just one. Prove to me that this isn’t just some game to you and I’ll come with you tonight and I’ll do things your way.” He offered.

 

You knew he was changing tactics but you couldn’t quite figure out what his new angle was and that excited you.  

 

You smirked as you mulled it over, deciding whether or not to grant his request. You crossed the room to him, noting how he froze the closer you were to him until he was perfectly still as you stretched up, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered a single word to him. His sharp intake of breath was loud in the otherwise silent room as he realized what you had said, what you had told him and he looked down at you with wonder.

 

You had just told him your name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up shorter because the name reveal lost it's impact if I tried to make it longer. The next chapter will be longer and more actioney. 
> 
> Bucky and Ex are apparently both playing their own games, I wonder how that's going to play out?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a teaser/tester. I kinda just want to write a story where the reader character is not the good guy, but she’s not the bad guy either. She’s in a very moral grey area, like Natasha would have been when Clint first found her. 
> 
> However, I don’t know if it’s something worth writing or should just be one of the ones that only lives inside my mind.


End file.
